


A dull pair of scissors and yellow light

by littlesprouts



Category: Wooden Overcoats (Podcast)
Genre: Gen, Good God, Nothing much happens, antigone gives rudyard a haircut, as usual, classic sibling stuff, i put that in quotes bc i have no idea what im doing, it's really more of a "character study", just them working some stuff out i guess, my first wooden overcoats fic!, some talking about their feelings masked by threats to each other's health, this is just some quality sibling banter, welp enjoy i guess!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:34:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28203189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littlesprouts/pseuds/littlesprouts
Summary: Antigone cuts Rudyard's hair, classic sibling banter/threats ensue
Relationships: Antigone Funn & Rudyard Funn
Comments: 12
Kudos: 13





	A dull pair of scissors and yellow light

**Author's Note:**

> oh hi guys! i was busy being one with the shadows but them this pandemic kicked my ass and i got, once again, really wicked into podcasts bc what else is there to do, amirite
> 
> so tonight i had *mumble* glasses of wine and wrote this for your enjoyment and to hold us over until the fabled season 4

'You're gonna have to start cleaning your ears again now that they're visible once more,' Antigone remarked in between two pointed _snipp_ s of the kitchen scissors.  
'It's really quite remarkable you can hear me at all.'  
'What?' Rudyard replied, 'quit mumbling, would you?'  
'Very _funny._ '  
'I am actually, thank you very much. For some reason people don't tend to notice.'  
'They might be too distracted by the wheat growing out of the loamy fields of your auditorial canals.'  
'Oh, ha, _haaaa._ As much as I appreciate your tentative forays into humor _please stop_ and focus on cutting my hair, would you?'  
The next snip came dangerously close to Rudyard's pinna and he gave a little jump.  
'Sorry! Just, please? I want this to be over,' he whined.  
'You think it's fun seeing your face up close?' Antigone shot back, though sounding appeased.  
'We're twins. We have the same face.' Rudyard muttered.  
'Don't remind me. I have successfully avoided looking into any reflective surface for the last 17 years.'  
There was a spot of silence in which they both contemplated their genepool. Rudyard bit the inside of his cheek.  
'You have nicer skin though.' he said, looking at the dark hair gathering on the floor.  
'UV rays are basically biological warfare the sun is waging on us – unlike you I missed out on almost two decades of them. Not that I went out much before that.'  
Rudyard gave a noncommittal _hmpf.  
_'Thank you, though. I'm assuming it was supposed to be a compliment.'  
'Don't mention it.'  
Another few seconds ticked by in which Antigone tried to give her brother's hair a less miserable shape than it was in and Rudyard stared at the dust particles in the meager yellow light the lamp on the table provided.  
'Mum had nice skin too, didn't she?'  
'Rudyard, unless you want an encore of the bowl cut debacle-'  
'Alright, alright! I'll shut up.'  
'Good.' she put her hands on both sides of his head, 'Turn your head this way.'  
Scared for his ears he complied. He began twiddling his thumbs under the shroud that served as a makeshift barber's cape. He wished that his hair would stop growing so he could get out of these half-yearly haircuts. Or that they could afford to go to a real hairdresser. Well, _he_ could afford to go to a real hairdresser. He was pretty sure Antigone had never had a haircut in her entire life, she wore it as a big nest-like structure on her head. It was being held in place by enough pins, were they to be molten down, they could easily be made into a complete set of cutlery, Rudyard was sure. It had been a long time since they had posessed an actual complete set of cutlery, having pawned off piece by piece over the last years. But who needed fancy utensils like sugar tongs or fish knives or cake forks anyway? Though he did miss the spoons sometimes.  
'I don't even remember her face that well,' Antigone said into the quiet.  
'Hm?'  
'Mum.'  
'Oh.' She sucked in her breath and began chewing the inside of her cheek. Rudyard knew she was about to drop the subject again.  
'I remember she had very smooth hands,' he said, 'and long fingers.'  
'Piano fingers,' Antigone agreed.  
'Do you remember her playing?'  
'No, but I thought she must have, so devastated she looked when dad chopped it up for firewood.'  
'It was a particularly cold August that year.'  
'Perhaps. Turn this way.'  
'He must have... _loved_ her though, right?' Using that word for their parents relationship didn't seem fitting.  
'They were married for 21 years.'  
'I know, but, how often can you remember them having a conversation?'  
'Well, they both weren't big talkers,' Antigone evaded.  
'I know, we didn't learn to speak until Nursery School.'  
'Look, Rudyard, why are you suddenly talking about this?'  
'No reason.'  
'Rudyard.'  
'I'm just...bored! You're taking forever to cut a little bit of hair and frankly-'  
'I'm still holding the scissors,' Antigone reminded him.  
'...and frankly, though I really appreciate you taking time out of your _busy schedule_ -'  
'I swear to-'  
'OUCH!'  
'Oh come on! I barely meant that!'  
'Stop stabbing me!'  
'I hardly poked you-'  
'Give me-'  
'Stop! Argh!'  
They wrestled for the scissors for a bit until Antigone held them up over her head where Rudyard couldn't reach them.  
'That's not fair!' he cried, half-heartedly jumping to slap them out of her grasp. And missing by at least 20 centimeters. This was now the second most embarrassing haircut he'd ever gotten.  
'You- you freakishly tall-'  
'Sit down.'  
'Like hell am I-'  
'Sit down or you're going to have to face Piffling Vale looking like _this_ until it's grown out.'  
Still steaming, Rudyard lowered his hands and reached for a butter knife from a breakfast past lying on the table. He wiped the jam and butter on the shroud and looked at himself in the reflective metal.  
'Well?' Antigone challenged him.  
He sat down.  
Antigone started combing his hair with her fingers and took up cutting again. He could practically _feel_ her boastful grin behind him. He wanted to dramatically storm out but obviously couldn't. Not while Antigone was holding him as a haircut hostage. He was practically a prisoner of war now. So he just sat there, moping until she broke the silence.  
'Sorry for _lightly_ stabbing you,' she conceded. 'But really, what brought all this on?'  
Rudyard considered sulking some more but decided with a sigh to postphone it.  
'I was just- thinking. I mean, they were living in the same house, working together, eating together – but they didn't even acknowledge each other. They had completely lost contact despite seeing each other every day. I just- Listen, I just don't want that to be us, alright?'  
'We're not married though.'  
'Antigone-'  
'Sorry. Yes. It was pretty similar to that before though, wasn't it?'  
'But we're not going back to that, are we?'  
She considered for a moment, cutting in silence.  
'I quite like how it is now better, actually.'  
Rudyard let out a breath he didn't realise he had been holding. She mercifully ignored it.  
'Yeah, me too. Actually.'  
'Good.'  
Knowing she couldn't see him, Rudyard allowed himself a relieved smile.  
'There, you're done.'  
'Really?'  
'Yep – see you in six months.'  
Rudyard spun around.  
'Little joke,' she cackled.  
'Really, you-' he started.  
'Oh, get out of this kitchen before I stab you again.'  
'Fair. See you.'  
'And Rudyard?'  
'Hm?'  
'Clean your ears, I mean it.'

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh I hope you enjoyed this little thing!!  
> As always, English is not my first language so please be gentle :')
> 
> If you were to leave a comment I'll give you a discount on your favourite aunties funeral - for real, please tell me what worked for you and what not or just talk to me about the podcast or honestly, just scream with me, would you?


End file.
